Time to Rewrite

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Time To Rewrite

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Chapter 3: Events Are Set In Motion

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Harry's mouth dropped open.

His?

His mind instantly flooded with questions and he stiffened, his eyes widening as his gaze flew to the locked wooden chest. He was suddenly aware that he was breathing heavily and he could feel his heart thump against his ribcage. His eyes never leaving the chest, he whispered breathlessly to the wizard before him.

"How - how do you know it's mine?"

Deep blue eyes regarded him seriously for a moment.

"The fact that it shrunk at your touch, and that you are even able to hold it at all confirms that it cannot be anyone's but yours, Harry," the Headmaster explained.

Harry looked questioningly at the older wizard.

"If anyone but the Mygrator's true owner touches it - it will vanish," Dumbledore continued.

Harry inhaled sharply.

"That is why there are so few in existence, Harry...."

The Gryffindor remembered his earlier words. Only seven people in the world have one....

"Many of those who have been fortunate enough - if that is the right word - to have one, have only had them disappear at some point by the simple act of someone merely touching it." He appeared thoughtful for a moment. "Something to do with magical energy, I believe. The magic that resides within each of us is different. It is like a fingerprint, and when the magic of another wizard or witch touches a Mygrator, the conflict is such that it destroys the object."

Harry remembered how carefully Dumbledore had given it to him. Not so that it wouldn't break - but so that he himself would not touch it.

"Is that what happened to yours?" Harry asked slowly.

"My dear boy, no," Dumbledore smiled. He peered at Harry over his spectacles. "I never had one in the first place."

Harry was a little startled by this admission.

The Headmaster continued to explain the properties of a Mygrator. "It shrinks in size only when the owner touches it, so only he or she is able to conceal it about their person. If anyone else attempts to hold it indirectly, for instance in a container of some kind, it grows to its original size - as it was when I brought it here." He paused to let all this information sink into the wizard, realising that it was a lot to take in. After a few moments he cleared his throat. "Another property of a Mygrator is its inability to reveal its images to anyone but its owner." He paused again, as if preparing himself. "When you looked into it...what did you see?" Dumbledore held his breath.

Harry swallowed.

"My parents."

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A little while later the Headmaster exited the hospital wing with a heavy heart. He immediately summoned Professors McGonagall and Snape to his office. By the time the Potions Master entered the room Professor McGonagall was already was seated by Dumbledore's desk, and the two exchanged a courteous nod.

Snape strode forward. "Headmaster." The tight-lipped man bowed before lowering himself into the offered seat.

Dumbledore paused a few moments until the wizard had settled himself before getting straight to the point. "I showed Harry the Mygrator today."

Professor Snape's eyes snapped towards the Headmaster. "And?" He held his breath.

"And, predictably, he saw his parents in it."

Minerva nodded dejectedly. "So that removes all doubt...." she whispered, almost to herself.

Snape's expression betrayed nothing of the effect that this piece of information had on him. He regarded the Headmaster for a moment before speaking. "Then we must act as quickly as possible." He started to stand.

"Tomorrow, Severus."

"Tomorrow?" Snape's expression changed slightly. "But Headmaster, the sooner we - "

Dumbledore held his hand up to silence the wizard before him. "I don't want to rush this upon Harry. He is able to receive enough of the restorative draught to last him two more days. Let him spend it with his friends. We owe him that much...." His voice dropped a little. "We can talk to him tomorrow evening. And then let us take it from there."

The Potions Master stiffened slightly. "Don't you think it may be better to - ?"

"I thank you for your concern in the matter, Severus," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "But I have made up my mind."

"I agree," Professor McGonagall added.

Snape's dark eyes flickered a little and he opened his mouth as if to say something. But then he closed it again.

"As you wish, Headmaster." He nodded curtly to the two Professors. "If you'll excuse me, I have a class to return to."

And with that he turned swiftly and swept out of the room, his black cape slicing through the air behind him.

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"Jeez, what's up with Snape?" Ron muttered to Hermione five minutes later as he measured out an ounce of dried root. "He looks like he's about to murder someone."

The Potions Master had just burst into the room in a foul mood following his meeting with Dumbledore, and had just deducted 10 points from Neville for coughing. The class was brewing a coughing potion.

Snape bristled at his desk, ignoring the looks that the students exchanged, his mind a million miles away. His gaze flicked over the students and came to a rest on Draco. He inwardly winced. How could I have been such a fool.... What had started as an empty threat to put the boy's father in his place was fast becoming an impending reality. There was no question about it, he had to rectify the situation before it all got disastrously out of hand. He had to think...fast....

Suddenly a silent gasp escaped his lips and his face contorted in pain. Snape clenched his teeth together, detaching himself from the throbbing ache that had started to radiate from his left forearm, where beneath his heavy robes The Dark Mark seared an angry red. He raised himself from his seat and walked stiffly to the door, avoiding the urge to grasp his arm lest the students suspect.

In less than ten minutes, Snape had reached the school gates and he quickly stepped across the boundary. He turned once, twice, on the spot and Disapparated instantly.

The moment Severus' feet touched his destination he promptly fell to his knees and bowed his head towards the earth. "You called."

"Do you have news for me?" The question penetrated the silence and rattled through Snape's skull.

The Potions Master faltered. "My Lord - "

"DO YOU HAVE NEWS FOR ME?"

Snape winced inwardly and his voice was barely above a hoarse whisper when it emerged. "It will be done in two days' time."

There was a high piercing laugh and Snape felt as though he might be sick.

"Return to the school immediately. I will notify Lucius and he will make the necessary arrangements."

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"NO!"

Narcissa Malfoy crumbled to the floor and grasped her husband's robes as the strangled cry left her lips. Lucius had just returned from a summons by The Dark Lord. He told her what had been discussed and she actually felt her heart rip in two.

"You - you can't be serious!" she choked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pleaded with the unrelenting man. "You can't. He's our son, Lucius!" She gripped the dark material and sobbed violently, her knuckles whitening as she frantically twisted at the cloth.

"Narcissa," Lucius snapped, somewhat softer than he had intended. He pulled his robes free from her grip. "Control yourself."

"Control myself?" she gasped. "He's my son! Our son! How can you do this?"

A pained expression crossed the wizard's face and he turned away, not wanting his wife to see his anguish. "We have been ordered," he said stiffly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I don't care! This - it's madness! You - you monster!"

Lucius whirled around, his eyes flashing angrily at his wife's outburst.

"ENOUGH! Remember who you are."

"You've escaped from Azkaban, Lucius!" she cried, hot tears thickening her voice. "How long before they find you again? Please don't take my son...he's all I have left.... My baby boy...." She collapsed into a heap on the floor. "Our son...our son...."

She repeated the same desperate sentence over and over again as she rocked back and forth numbly, her head in her hands.

Lucius set his jaw determinedly and pressed his lips together tightly, his face whitening. "And The Dark Lord is our master."

He swept out of the room.

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A little later that day Lucius' head appeared in the fireplace of the Slytherin common room.

"Father?" Draco stopped abruptly in the centre of the room. He had been nervously pacing the floor - something he always did whenever his father urgently arranged to speak with him.

Lucius wasted no time. "Is there anyone around? I mustn't be seen...."

"No one" his son replied. "But even so, I don't think any of the Slytherin's would say anything. They're happy you've escaped - "

"I haven't got time for games, Draco!" Lucius hissed angrily. "Is there anyone around?"

The Slytherin fidgeted uncomfortably under his father's threatening gaze. "No - no, the room's empty," he quickly replied. "I put a locking spell on the doors."

Lucius seemed satisfied at this information. He cleared his throat. "Sit down, Draco...I have something to tell you."

The young wizard obediently lowered himself onto the couch opposite the fireplace and clasped his hands on his lap. He noticed that his father looked worn and he seemed to be faltering. Lucius never faltered.

He paused and turned slightly away from Draco, thoughts of his earlier meeting with Voldemort running through his mind.

"I saw The Dark Lord today."

Draco felt his stomach turn over. "Wha - what happened?" he asked nervously. He subconsciously gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles whitening as he anticipated what his father was going to say. His father never usually discussed Death Eater meetings with him. Draco's voice lowered. He was scared to ask his next question. "Are - are you alright?"

"I'm alright," Lucius retorted bitterly. He swallowed slowly before turning away. He had delayed this for long enough. "He - he has a task...." Lucius closed his eyes and felt his mouth go dry.

"...for you."

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The next day, Harry was discharged from the hospital wing. He returned to his dormitory to the cheers of his roommates and caught up eagerly on the latest gossip, Quidditch results, and general chatter that he had missed while he was away. He felt glad to be back. Even the prospect of a double period with the Sytherins wasn't enough to dampen his mood. Shortly after lunch, he and Ron grabbed their books for their next class.

"Hey, mate - you haven't seen my spare parchment, have you?" the red-haired boy questioned, busily rummaging through his trunk.

"Nope, sorry," Harry replied. Here - use mine. He pulled out an unused roll and tossed it over towards Ron. He smiled at his friend. It felt nice to be doing familiar, every day things again.

"Great, thanks!" The red-haired boy stuffed it into his bag and made towards the dormitory door. Harry quickly uncorked one of the tiny bottles of Restorative Potion that Madam Pomfrey had given him when he had left the hospital wing and downed its contents in one gulp. She had strictly told him to have one bottle every four hours. He stuffed the empty bottle in his bag and followed Ron.

A few minutes later they entered the classroom and seated themselves. The teacher hadn't arrived yet, so most of the students were talking amongst themselves. Harry listened while Seamus questioned Ron about a new product that Fred and George had brought out earlier in the week, but slowly became aware of an uneasy feeling. He shifted a little and turned suddenly - and a pair of eyes locked with his.

Malfoy.

Malfoy was staring at him.

Harry expected him to sneer at him when he caught his eye, but instead the blonde's stony gaze didn't waver and he seemed to look straight through Harry...hauntingly.... He was sitting a little apart from the rest of the Slytherins on his table and they didn't seem to notice Malfoy's strange behaviour as he continued to stare, his eyes boring into Harry's. The dark-haired wizard shivered a little. What is he playing at? Despite himself, Harry looked a little closer. The boy's cheeks seemed to have hollowed a little since he had last seen him, and there was definitely a trace of - something - etched in those features. Worry...? Fear, even...?

He had an unreadable expression on his face, and the more Harry stared at him the less he could decipher it. Malfoy's eyes darkened slightly, contrasting harshly with his pale complexion, and his lips pressed together into a thin line. Harry regarded the boy and felt an uncharacteristic pang of sympathy for the Slytherin. Ron and Hermione had told Harry about the previous day's headline about Lucius. It must be really hard, he thought to himself, having a father on the run from the law whilst having to come to school every day, trying to keep a brave face about it....

Crabbe and Goyle suddenly appeared alongside the blonde, having just entered the classroom, and something seemed to jolt inside Malfoy. He seemed to remember that he hadn't given Harry his usual taunt and snarled at the boy. "What's the matter, Potter? Only made it to the front page three times in the past week? Starting to feel neglected?"

Harry immediately frowned and turned away, feeling a surge of anger flare in his chest. How stupid of me. He hasn't changed at all....

But if he had continued to look at the Slytherin he would have seen the emptiness in his glare and the hopelessness in his eyes. Draco's meeting with his father the previous day had turned his entire world upside down. The blonde felt hot tears prickle at the back of eyelids as he remembered his father's words at the end of their conversation....

...but until then you act NORMALLY. Which means you go to every class, you eat your meals in the Great Hall and you give no one any reason to suspect anything. Do you hear?

Yes, father.

And those had been the words that had sealed his fate.

Mere seconds later the Professor taking the class entered and started to write upon the blackboard, startling Draco out of his reverie.

As the class settled down and the lesson began, Harry's mind involuntarily wandered to his conversation with Dumbledore the day before. Time travel....

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"So how did you like your first day back?" Ron questioned as they reached their common room after the end of the final class. He made his way to the couch near the fireplace and pulled out the box of wizard chess that he and Harry made a point of playing every day when lessons were over.

"Great!" Harry replied happily. "It's good to be back." He grinned at his friend and settled down on the floor opposite him while Ron set up the board on a low table.

"I see Malfoy still can't keep his eyes off you," Ron remarked.

Harry felt himself redden. "What are you talking about?" he blurted. His eyes darted upwards to meet Ron's and he saw the grin on his face. "Oh, er - "

Ron laughed. "I saw him staring at you before Crabbe and Goyle came in. What do you think he's up to?" He frowned thoughtfully as he made his first move.

Harry thought for a while as he watched Ron's knight hop over his pawn and slide one place to the right. "I dunno...." he replied. "I wouldn't really put anything past him anymore."

A silence descended upon them as each pondered their strategy for the game.

A little while later Hermione entered the common room and spotted the two huddled over the table. She made her way towards them and seated herself beside Ron. Her eyes flicked lazily to the chessboard. "You'd better watch your bishop, Harry. If Ron takes that you'll have nothing to defend your - "

Ron rolled his eyes in exasperation and exhaled impatiently.

Harry chuckled and started to thank the witch - but suddenly he blinked heavily as a strange feeling washed over him. He gripped the edge of the table and inhaled sharply.

Hermione paled. "Harry - what's wrong...? Harry!"

"Nothing, I just - just feel a little - "

He turned towards his schoolbag that was lying next to him and fumbled at the outside pocket. After a little scuffling, he retrieved a tiny bottle and unscrewed the lid. "I'll just take a bit of my potion," he said hoarsely, and tipped his head back and sipped some of the cooling liquid. After a few seconds he wiped his mouth and shut the bottle. He instantly felt much better.

Hermione looked at him worriedly. "I didn't know you were still taking that...." Her eyebrows knitted together slightly. "Did Madam Pomfrey say when you can stop?"

Harry replaced the bottle in his bag and looked at her. "No, she didn't mention it."

Hermione frowned.

"Stop worrying," Harry said. "I'm fine! I'll be better in no time, then I'll be able to stop taking it." He settled back down to the game and moved his bishop out of harm's way. Ron gave Hermione a thunderous look.

"There's something I wanted to tell you both, actually," Harry started, his voice quivering slightly. He turned to face them and proceeded to fill them in on the visit by Dumbledore that he had received whilst he was in the hospital wing. As soon as he got to the part about the Mygrator, Hermione gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes widened. "You've got one?"

"Yes," Harry repeated. "Dumble - "

"But they're used for time travel!" she interrupted.

"I know, he told - "

"But only seven people in the world have one!"

"Hermione!" Harry held his hands up to silence her. "I know! Dumbledore told me all about it. He - he showed me mine yesterday."

"What?" Ron had been looking back and forth between Hermione and Harry as this exchange had been going on, and was completely confused.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "You must have heard of them, Ron. A Mygrator is a magical object that is" - she lowered her voice - "that is used for time travel. And - and Harry's got one!" She gasped again.

"Oh," Ron replied, not really seeing what the big deal was about. "Why? Are you going somewhere, Harry?" he quipped, grinning.

His question was interrupted by one of the younger students, who suddenly walked up to Harry and blushed. "Er - excuse me - Professor Dumbledore asked me to give you this...."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

He held his hand out and the young Gryffindor handed him a roll of parchment bound with a wax seal bearing the Hogwarts crest. The boy then left.

"Thanks," Harry said absently as he fingered the scroll.

"Well aren't you going to open it?" coaxed Ron.

"Oh, er, yes...." Harry gingerly unravelled the letter and flattened it against the table. The three of them peered at the writing.

Dear Harry,

I hope this letter finds you well - I understand that you have

been discharged from the wing. I trust it is you who is reading

this letter, for I have taken the liberty of applying a charm to

its surface to prevent anyone else doing so. I wish to speak with

you this evening, and I think it is advisable at present that you

do not tell anyone about it. If you could come to my office at

seven o' clock I would be most grateful.

Sincerely yours,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry read the letter twice, wondering why the Headmaster would want to see him at such short notice.

Ron peered over his shoulder at the parchment, completely confused. "Why has Professor Dumbledore sent you his shopping list?" he spluttered. "Quills, new buttons for his travelling cloak, fizzing whizzbees, phoenix treats...." He shook his head. "He's finally lost it."

Hermione frowned at him. "What are you talking about, Ron? It's clearly a hymn sheet from last year's carol service. Look - here's Jingle Bells, Gringotts Smells. But why on earth has he given it to Harry? It must be a mistake...."

The two continued to argue but their exclamations were lost on the dark-haired wizard.

He couldn't quite explain it, but he had a bad feeling about this.

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